Broken Glass

Was doing a lot of thinking last night as I was going to sleep.  Do you think I could remember any of it?

Actually, it was mostly about what and how I write.  I write in a journal a lot.  I write poetry that is an outlet.  A way of exorcising whatever demons have been making my life more interesting than I want it to be.  I know that when I write, I am not the same person at the end as I was at the beginning.  The process itself changes me. For good or ill, I"m not really sure, but I do know there are changes.  Some are rather small, other changes are huge. 

I've also found that if I go back and read what I wrote a month, a year or a decade ago, I find myself wondering how I got to where I was at the beginning.  I read through what I wrote, and find myself changing yet again in ways that are different than they were the first time through.

A lot of what I write is very dark.  And some of it, while nightmarish, is actually quite beautiful.....

The road that lies before me
The path that I must take
Is paved along its length
With shards of broken glass

No shoes are upon my feet
In beggars rags I’m clad
I must walk along this road
Paved in broken glass

There are no places on the side
Where I might go to rest
No place to lie my head
Or rest my weary bones

The path I’ve left behind me
Is where I’ve left a trail
Bloody footprints for all to see
All in a staggered line

I see where I have stumbled
Where I’ve stood a while in pain
Looking for a place to stop
A place to end the march

Looking to the left of me
Monsters I do see
Waiting for me to leave
The road of broken glass

My life is all around me
The past is bathed in blood
Of footprints made on shards of glass
Walking down this road

Why am I on this bloody path
Who chose the way I go
My feet were set upon the way
So many years ago

Choices made when I was young
Wrong choices it now seems
Have put me here on this path
To go as best I can

So now I must go along
Reaping the seeds I’ve sown
My future lies before me
On this road of broken glass